Smaller on the Outside
by RiStark
Summary: "You're the man in my dreams." "Well I've never gotten that kind of response before." Clara/Eleven. Slight AU
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I've…never done this before. Writing for Doctor Who, I mean. I wrote this story before the new season had arrived, mostly due to the fact that my anxiety was absolutely killing me. I had nothing to work on, I hadn't seen the first season premiere and I was utilizing my imagination. This was the best I could come up with. Hopefully, all of you enjoy it, and don't nag about any discrepancies that are bound to arise. This is horribly AU, and maybe even a bit OOC, but everything will be explained in due time! Thank you all for reading.

Disclaimer: Don't own!

-x-

_Smaller on the Outside_

_"You're the man in my dreams." "Well I've never gotten that kind of response before." Oswin/Eleventh Doctor. _

-x-

_Run you clever boy, and remember…_

Clara woke up with a start, her heart still pulsing and breathing erratic. Her vision was blurry, and wiping at her eyes she realized she was crying. Her nose was clogged from the silent sobs she had dispelled while sleeping and she felt sluggish. But those weren't the worst things that overcame her senses. There was this horrible sinking feeling of dread, hopelessness, and despair sitting squarely in her chest. The feeling reminded her of when she found out her grandmother died. She was in university, studying like mad and not paying attention to the world, when her mother called with the news. Her world had crashed and halted, and it had felt as if she would never feel any type of happiness again. That very same feeling was drowning her, poking relentlessly at her stomach.

'That damn dream,' she thought, wiping tears away from her eyes, 'that damn dream and those damn Daleks and that damn _Doctor_.' The very title made her choke and gasp more. Had he not barged into her dream, she would have been content with making soufflés and believing herself stuck in a bizarre planet with no one for company. But every time she dreamed of Daleks and soufflés, _he_ would come barging in, him and his cleverness, and his bow ties, and his horrid shoes.

Quickly glancing at the clock and seeing that it was too early for her to be coherent, nonetheless awake, she groaned. Another night of sleep lost, her Margaret will have a field day.

All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep for one night without any dreams. She had even gone so far as to get medication, but nothing was working. Through the deepest of sleeps the dreams would persevere and replay again and again. It had all started when she turned twenty. At first the dreams would start out hazy. All she could decipher were flashing lights, loud noises, and despair. But over time things started to get sharper. Soufflés and Carmen. Loneliness and regret. And then, of course, the Doctor.

"That damn Doctor." She muttered as stepped into the bathroom.

-x-

"This one needs to be re-categorized, these need to be repaired, and _those_ need to be placed in the drive box." Margaret said, indicating different boxes of books that were around her. Clara however was dozing while standing, her eyes fixed on nothing.

"Hello? Hellooo? Clara are you listening to me? If you fall asleep in the backroom again you know I'll have to report you." Margaret warned. That snapped Clara back to attention because she knew that if she was reported _again_ by Moony Margaret she'd lose her job.

"Yeah I heard you, don't worry." Quickly she moved towards the boxes.

"Uh-huh." Margaret said in skepticism, "Look I like you Clara, I really do, but you're walking on thin ice here. Just because you had a holiday due to your supposed 'sleeping problems' doesn't mean you can slack on the job, you here?"

"Loud and clear." But internally Clara was screaming in frustration. Margaret had so far gotten three former employees at the library fired because of their "unprofessionalism". However Clara knew it was because her three predecessors were close to winning the spot of Head Librarian, a spot that Margaret coveted, and so Margaret saw fit to eliminate the competition. Now, rumor had it Clara was the next runner up for the position, a position Margaret had yet to get, and now Margaret was ready to sink her claws into her throat.

"Not only that but think of the donors! If they see you slacking off, what will they think? They'll think we hire people directly off the streets! That we don't even care about the integrity of the workplace. You need to act _professional_ Clara." Margaret reprimanded.

Clara couldn't bring herself to care, she had two other jobs to worry about (one was really an internship but it still demanded the attention equivalent to that of full time job). But thing was, her position at the library was the only job Clara thoroughly enjoyed. Something about surrounding herself in books made her feel content.

Margaret left in a hurry, something about scoping potential donators. Clara sighed in relief; she knew if she was in the company of that harpy for another minute, Margaret would have to answer to her fist aimed at her jaw.

"Violence is never the answer Clara, you know this." She muttered to herself, hefting another box of books up, the one marked for the drive box.

'No one has ever seen _Margaret_ do any of the heavy lifting.' She thought bitterly.

"Here let me help you with that." A voice announced from behind her and before she knew it the weight of the box was lifted from her.

"Oh thanks Ian." She smiled in gratitude. Ian smiled back, however grimaced a little when he had to reposition the box in his grasp.

"No prob Clar." She winced at the nickname but didn't say anything against it. Ian was a nice boy who, while he had an obvious crush on her, was sweet and kind all together. Having worked at the library long before she was hired he took an immediate shine to her. If only he could take a hint.

Clara took the other box labeled for re-categorization, put them on the trolley and made a beeline for the door but Ian followed quickly after her.

"So, with all the donors coming in I thought they would be able to hire more people, you know, to do all the hard labor." Ian joked.

Clara laughed humorlessly, "That's why I was hired Ian."

"Oh," an awkward pause, "now that's not true. You're an integral part of the library."

"I'm an integral part of the restocking system. You on the other hand are an integral part of this library. Fixing computers is very important. The things you can do are impressive." They reached the E-H section of the library and she stopped the trolley so abruptly Ian almost ran into it.

"Oh, well, my skills aren't that great really." Ian stuttered, embarrassed.

"Nonsense. When you rid Archimedes of that virus in only four hours, I was awfully impressed." Her grin didn't really reach her eyes but it was enough for Ian to work with.

"Really? You think so? Well, I mean, I suppose that took _some _skill." By now Ian's arms were beginning to shake from exertion. Sweet he may be, muscled he was not.

"You should take those to the donation box before Margaret notices." Clara didn't want to say outright, 'you should put that box down before you lose your arms'.

"Right. Well I'll be seeing you." And with the last vestiges of strength he had left Ian skirted away.

Clara sighed. So maybe she had lied about the impressiveness of his skill. Truth be told it had been _her_ who had to clean Archimedes of the virus it had contracted. All of the computers at the library were named and Archimedes was the computer on the second floor that had a trick server. Ian, bless his soul, had been working on it for four hours to no avail. When he had left in frustration Clara had cleaned the computer in less than ten minutes. A new personal record. When Ian had come back he had just assumed his stumbling had worked.

For the remainder of the day she worked on autopilot. Stocking books left and right while listening to the chit-chat of various clienteles mingling in the lobby. The Bad Wolf Corporation (the company she was interning with) was throwing a fundraising gala for the library in two weeks time. In the span of time from the announcement of the gala till now the library had become a sensation. People were coming left and right to have their names engraved on the placard in the library's entrance hall in their list of donors.

Clara had yet to see a single note of that money.

After putting the last book up on the shelf she left to gather the last box. A high pitched laughter reached her ears. She looked over the balcony that overlooked the first floor hall and saw Margaret chatting away with a strapping fellow who looked at ease with himself.

Yes, Margaret _would_ be looking for a future husband amongst the clientele.

She shot the vile woman a brief look of disgust before hurrying to the front room with the trolley. Only the entrance hall and conference rooms A-C were reserved for the socializing that was taking place on the first floor. The rest of the library was still put to use as just that, the library. Children were still giggling in the child's section, a few had found comfort in the lounge chairs offered, and others were utilizing the internet in the computer lab.

There was a certain sort of peace to be had in the library. But an empty library was a desolate kind of place.

The rest of the day progressed in this fashion; picking up box after box, putting them in their designated areas, and then helping the occasional person locate the restrooms. By the end of the day she knew she would pass out from sheer exhaustion, so when the mingling ceased and closing time arrived she nearly wept with relief.

"Clara you close up." Margaret threw the keys on the front counter and left. Ian had all ready left; his shift having ended two hours ago, which only left Clara, Margaret, and Shirley. Shirley had left ten minutes prior, not wanting to face the wrath that was Margaret.

Clara said nothing; just watched Margaret's departing back. When she heard the resounding sound of the library doors closing she gave out a breath of relief.

"That bloody harpy." She muttered. And _knowing_ that bloody harpy she probably sabotaged something in the library, knowing that if she left Clara to close up shop, she'd be the one blamed for it.

"All I wanted was to go home, warm some coco, and snuggle with Barnaby. That's all I wanted, and is that too much to ask? Lord Almighty when I get my hands on her I'm going to twist her neck." An empty threat and she knew it.

The entire library comprised of four levels. The first had the conference rooms, the entrance hall, and the gift shop. The second had the fiction books, children stories, more conference rooms, the computer lab, and the lounge area. The third had the editorials, non-fiction, biographies, another computer lab, the encyclopedias, and the old cassette tapes collecting dust in the back. The fourth was the attic, a place hardly anyone ever went, where the oldest of old books went to die.

Knowing _Margaret_ she'd have to check every level thoroughly just so she could sleep happily. If she would get any sleep at all.

Floor by floor she trekked, searching for anything that might give any indication of being _wrong_. By the time she reached the third floor, she thought that maybe she was being paranoid; Margaret wouldn't really do something so diabolical. But when she saw the misplaced periodicals and the rearranged biographies she realized that yes, Margaret deserved to go into the deepest pit hell had to offer.

It took another twenty minutes to get everything arranged, especially the periodicals, heavy things that they were.

"There, that should do it." Proud of her accomplishment she was ready to leave, until she saw something in the corner of her eye.

The stairwell leading up to attic was open.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." There was no way Margaret even had the _balls_ to go up to the attic by herself.

But then the door widened just a bit more.

Clara blinked.

"Can rats open doors by themselves?" but then another thought occurred to her, "Did Margaret let a _rat_ inside the library?"

She shuddered in disgust, of all the things she expected Margaret to do, and that was the _last_ thing on the list.

But she steeled herself, if there was a rat infestation in the premises she would find it and report it. It was her job. She had the duty to the library. Even if it meant going up to the attic. And she relished the thought of reporting on Margaret if she was the one who let in the rats.

First she needed a torch, and a goddamn decent one at that.

She rushed back to the front desk, grabbed one of the torches and as a second thought also brought her pepper spray she kept in her purse. Quickly she ran up the stairs, light on her toes. Once she reached the stairwell leading up to the attic she didn't even hesitate.

The stairwell hadn't been used for the longest time due to there being a sort of stigma against going up the attic. Sure, there would be the occasional person who would _have_ to go up there, put as a whole, most gave it a wide berth.

The way up was dark, the lights having not been replaced for the longest time. Add the creaky staircase and everything was fantastic.

"You idiot. What are you doing?" Clara asked herself. Sure, there was some enjoyment at the thought of ratting out (no pun intended) Margaret but at the same time Clara didn't fancy having the living daylights scared out of her by whatever might be hiding out in the dark.

As she reached the top of the staircase she looked about. The attic encompassed the entire length of the library. Meaning the attic was very, very large and very, very dark.

"Well, let's do this Oswald. One…corner at a time?" Slowly she crept forward into the abyss. There were shelves of decrepit books and out-dated technology.

She walked slowly, anticipating anything.

There was a shuffling noise behind her.

Anticipating anything, except _that_.

Her torch light briefly hit on what looked like a gigantic cat. Covered with black fur and four legged it ran deeper into the attic. She gasped in shock because that was most definitely not a rat. Bigger than a rat and could possibly do more harm than a rat.

But that wasn't the only thing her torch light hit.

Something had shined against the light seconds before it had landed on that…thing. Going back to it her eyes widened in surprise. This, whatever it was, did not belong in a library. If anything it probably deserved to be in a museum.

It was blue. Magnificently blue. At the top the words "Police Box" were blazoned across. A plaque was on what appeared to be two hinged doors but whatever it might've said was worn and gone. Clara walked forward slowly; this Police Box was a thing of beauty. Dust had accumulated on the doors, Clara noted, as she brushed her hand against the old plaque. Glass windows were white washed and barred. A small tug at the handle and Clara realized it was locked. She pulled with more force and was surprised at how firm it was. For something so old, it was locked tighter than her mother's old cookie jar.

"What's a beautiful thing like you doing in a place as dull as this?" her eyes raked over its entire surface. It reminded her of Police Boxes her grandmother would describe. And by describe, her grandmother would regale how in her youth she would use the Police Boxes for a quick snog.

More shuffling was heard behind her. She whirled to face the source of the noise. Her light found nothing except dust covered shelves and statues. A shaky sigh escaped her.

"Okay…" she started, "there's nothing here. Except a gigantic…cat. Yes that's right. There's nothing here except a gigantic cat and an abandoned Police Box." Odd how she said abandoned and not old.

"There's nothing here," she glanced quickly at her watch, "and I really need to get home. I have the presentation tomorrow, and the design still to plan. Shit. Okay, I can do this. There's…there's nothing here." Reasserting herself she quickly fled the attic, but not without giving the Police Box another glance. For some reason it gave off the impression of being lonesome, depressed even.

"I'll come back." She whispered. Although why she was making a promise to an old Police Box was beyond her.

But those simple words seemed to work, the atmosphere in the room seemed brighter, happier.

She left without another look back.

-x-

The next day, she woke up to Barnaby suffocating her face.

"Pfft, oh, Barnaby." She whined, spitting in an attempt to get cat hair out of her mouth. But the fat block of a cat merely meowed at her before plopping himself on her chest.

"Oh yes, that's definitely better." She grumbled, picking up the cat and moving him off her. Slowly she raised herself out of bed, Barnaby still meowing for attention.

"All right, all right, you selfish little cat." After rubbing his head she walked downstairs, the cat at her heels. The bag of cat food was exactly where she left it the day before, open and untouched. Barnaby could have just dipped his perky little head in and ate to his heart's content, but he was far too lazy for that.

Clara put the bowl of cat food in front of Barnaby, which he lapped at eagerly.

Today was a study day, she could feel it in her bones.

But first, internet.

However before she could even make it up the stairs the main phone in the kitchen started ringing. Clara pivoted back down the stairs, the quicker she could answer the phone the quicker she could check Facebook.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Clara?" a familiar voice questioned.

"Gemma?" Clara's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Where are you dear? Your shift started thirty minutes ago." An elderly voice asked in concern. Clara, however, had no answer to supply, she simply gaped for a few seconds.

"W-what? But I've had this day off since the new schedule was printed!" Clara practically ran to the refrigerator, which is where both her and her flat mate posted their schedules.

"Is that so? Well it says here you were scheduled for the morning shift." Gemma indicated.

"But I'm looking at my schedule right now, and I didn't schedule for the morning shift today." She started to drum her fingers against the refrigerator. A deep unsettled panic nestled itself inside her stomach.

"Clara, I'm so sorry dear, this is obviously a gigantic mix-up, but I have no one at front desk for the remainder of the morning and I need to help stock up the main shelves." Now Clara felt like a horrible person because no one in their right minds should ever make Gemma, gentle, kind Gemma, _beg_.

"No, Gemma, its fine I'll be right there."

"Are you sure? I can always call in someone else for the shift."

"Oh there's no need to wake up anyone else this early. I'm awake, I might as well do something productive with my day." Well, there goes studying.

"Oh Clara, thank you so much."

"It's no problem at all Gemma."

-x-

She was now an hour late to her supposed shift, but Gemma didn't seem to mind, and she even put this down as overtime.

"You didn't have to do that, you could've just put me down as late." Clara was absolutely touched that an angel such as Gemma worked at the Library.

"None sense. Make you late to a shift you didn't schedule?" Gemma Lusbee was an elderly woman, with short grey hair that clung to her skull. Currently, she was the Head Librarian, the position that Margaret coveted so much. She always wore bright colors that instantly made her the center of attention in any room, however she never exploited it. She claimed the bright colors were so her husband could spot her amongst the row of books, but Mr. Lusbee had passed ten years prior, so she filled most of her time in the Library. But she never stopped wearing the bright colors.

Today it was a neon green scarf atop a bright pink kitten sweater, and conservative (on Gemma's part) brown pants that were patterned with puppy paw prints. While it might have looked ludicrous on any other person, Clara found it rather suitable for Gemma.

"I still feel bad about taking the extra money." Clara confessed.

Gemma laughed, "With all the donations we've been receiving, it wouldn't be too much to give one employee overtime, dear."

There was no arguing with her, and so Clara left to man the front desk. As it was a Sunday morning, not many had risen yet, and Clara found herself distracted by sudden urge to found out why she was scheduled to work today of all days.

All right, Clara shifted her line of sight from side to side to ensure no one was around. She sat herself down on the desk chair and aligned the computer monitor towards her.

Logging onto the System Operations she used the master code, which wasn't all that hard to figure out (001Library), to the records of all computer systems. First, she went to the shift schedule to see _when_ exactly her new shift was scheduled. Two days ago, at 5:01 P.M. using Donatello (a rather fickle computer located on the third floor). Well, that didn't entirely help matters; Donatello was located near the entrance of autobiographies and was a frequently used computer.

Oh-kay, with more clicking of the mouse Clara then checked all employees logged onto the system that Friday afternoon. Dylan, Ian, Mary, Landen, Carlisle, BB, Morgan, Renee, and Margaret.

Huh.

Margaret.

Double-clicking on Margaret's name, it indicated that yes, Margaret was online that Friday afternoon, on Donatello, from 4:50-5:30.

Clara then wished she had teleportation abilities, just for the sake of being able to teleport to Margaret's room, dump rotten milk on her, and teleport away before she could be suspected.

The little hacker narrowed her eyes however when she took stock of what Margaret was doing exactly for that amount of time while on Donatello.

Margaret was currently bidding on a pair of metallic grey boots on eBay. Her starting bid was three dollars. The bid was ending in five minutes.

"That cheap cow." Clara muttered.

Well all right then. A few more clicks and some methodical key strokes, Clara was signed in as Margaret on eBay, and not only that, but Margaret _did_ end up winning the bid in the last five minutes, after placing a bid of fifty dollars. As well as purchasing a matching clutch purse, an absurdly priced Beatles vinyl, and a poster of the Eiffel Tower that's claimed to be urinated on by Bono. Thank God for Paypal.

It was petty, she knew, but at the same time it was utterly gratifying. In a matter of minutes she had erased all evidence of her being logged onto the System Operations. Now, she felt like she had a genuine reason to smile.

-x-

The morning shift was spent quietly. Hardly anyone had found reason to go the Library on a Sunday morning, and when it came time for her shift to end, she went to the back to clock out.

Gemma was there re-organizing children's books.

"My shift just ended Gemma, and BB is on his way." Gemma looked up and smiled.

"Oh of course. Thank you again Clara for coming."

Clara smiled, "As if I would let you man the castle with less men." It was a running joke between the two of them to refer the Library as a castle.

"Well, this old place has had to deal with worse. Especially now with that gala occurring, oh Lord, I pray I have enough energy in this old bones of mine to deal with Misters and Misses who want nothing more than to be _in_ the books than to actually read them." Gemma shoveled more books onto a rack.

"It is a pity, that." Clara sympathized.

"Which reminds me, Clara, we're actually short a few people in setting up the morning before the gala. If it's not too much trouble-"

"Gemma I will _be_ there. I'm actually surprised you even bothered to ask." Of course Clara had originally planned to help Louise with the pastries at that time, but it was still up in the air, so now she knew she could dedicate her time to the castle while still being able to help Louise later on with the fondant.

"Clara, Clara, Clara," Gemme started, a fond look in her eyes, "you will go _far_ in life, I'm sure of it."

The brunette was a little taken back by the sudden admittance, but didn't falter.

"What makes you say that?" a quick of the eyebrows is all she gave away.

The elderly woman shrugged, "You're a rare breed of person Clara. A person like you comes few and far between. And darling, someone with your intellect shouldn't be working at a Library."

Now she was confused, "But I like working at the castle."

"And the castle _loves_ you, but you're squandering your talents by staying here." There was a brief pause, "Which is why I'm thinking about giving the position to Margaret."

"_WHAT?!"_ Clara screeched.

Gemma was visibly started, and Clara had to blink and cover her face with her hands in mortification.

"I mean, oh dear God, I don't mean-well if you say you want to give it to Margaret, I shouldn't stop you, but oh God-Margaret? You're sure? Margaret? The walking harpy of the castle Margaret? _That_ Margaret?" Rambling was never a good point in starting an argument, but the girl was to shocked to formulate a good enough sentence.

But then Gemma burst out into laughter.

"Oh my dear child. You're face! You should have seen your _face!_" Gemma continued to guffaw into her scarf.

Clara made a face of disbelief. "W-what?"

"Me? Give the castle to Margaret?" the elderly woman scoffed, "When I die!"

This woman is so crazy she's awesome, Clara concluded in her mind.

-x-

_Egg...egg…egg…EXTERMINATE!_

A gasp escaped her as she shot up in bed, fighting off an attacker that was only in her mind. In the tussle with her imaginary invader she had knocked over a picture frame. It clattered to the floor with an audible clang.

"Clara? Clara is that you? Are you all right?"

She took in a deep breath. Christ, what time was it?

"Clara?!"

"Yeah Stace I'm fine!" Was she? Was she really?

The dreams were getting worse. Before, the vividness would just be enough to astound her, but now she could actually _feel_ the burning inferno that consumed the planet. The fire biting at her skin as her Dalek form collapsed in on itself. The screams that echoed in her ears. She shivered.

A knock was heard from her door before Stacy popped her head in.

"Hey, you sure you're all right? That was an awfully loud noise." Her flat mate asked in concern.

"O-oh yeah don't worry about me. I just, uhm, accidently knocked over the photo trying to hit the snooze button." Clara deftly grabbed the photo she had knocked over. It was a picture of her niece Gabrielle, her two front teeth missing, grinning for the entire world to see.

"If you say so. Look, I'm gonna be home late, something about Louise wanting specific pastels for the gala. Don't forget to check in with her Clara, she's right mad when big occasions are right around the corner." Stacy reminded.

Louise, the owner of the catering business Stacy and Clara both worked for, did indeed go quite mad when catering dates were coming. A perfectionist at heart, she _demanded_ perfection from her employees. Even if that meant working them to the bone beforehand.

Clara groaned at the reminder. Louise was the last person she wanted to talk to but Stacy was right, she had to confront her one day.

"Hurry up yeah? Or else you'll miss the bus, _again_." Stacy left at that. Clara flopped back down in bed, unwilling to face the problems of the day. She knew she should get up soon; after all she had missed her bus twice this week due to the nightmares.

'But never before have they been so bad,' she thought morosely. She could still feel the heat nipping at her skin and she rubbed at her arms to dispel the feeling.

"It's not real; it's not real at all. They're just dreams. Horrible, horrible dreams of the same thing over and over again. Yup. That's all they are." Even she couldn't kid herself with this.

Getting out of bed she spied a quick glance at her dresser, the picture of Gabrielle smiling back at her. She knew she should call Elizabeth, Gabrielle's mother and her sister, sometime soon. Ever since the preparations for the gala had taken flight she hadn't been able to contact them in the longest time.

Going through her normal morning routine she even had to iron her clothes in the kitchen before she left. The Bad Wolf Corporation demanded that all their employees, yes even their interns, come suited in a professional matter. What did that mean for Clara? Ironing and washing the same five outfits every week, mixing and matching every other day so the outfits don't seem repeated. Once everything was ironed, tucked, and brushed to perfection she knew she was confident enough to walk out the door and stride into Bad Wolf Corporation as if she belonged there.

Quickly she gave Barnaby his breakfast meal, a quick rub on his furry little head, and grabbed her attaché case near the front door.

As she walked out the door she tripped on a crack in the cement and broke a heel on her pumps.

Oh yes, today was definitely her day.

-x-

Author's Note: Yes, that is the end of chapter one and (hopefully) there will be more to come. But as of right now with Finals and all the second chapter might be slow in coming. Also, I've never actually written a multi-chapter fic before, usually I've stuck with one-shots. This is completely new territory for me, but hopefully it'll be thoroughly enjoyed! Please excuse any grammatical errors. Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I sincerely apologize for the large delay to this chapter. I cannot make any excuses, and if I did they would be piss-poor, so I hope you, my dear faithful readers, can only accept my apologies. Here it is! So far so good, in my opinion.

Disclaimer: Don't own! Not a single aspect of it.

-x-

_Smaller on the Outside_

_"You're the man in my dreams." "Well I've never gotten that kind of response before." Oswin/Eleventh Doctor. _

_-x-_

Being an intern to a Corporation run mostly by men was a complete and utter joy. No. No it wasn't. Clara just thought she'd try her hand at sarcasm for once. These men would stare at her arse for more than was necessary, order her around, and demand coffee at such odd hours just to see her huff to the coffee cart and back. Oh yes, she hated working with men.

Except for one, the sweetheart on the tenth floor. His name was Jimmy Brisk. The co-CEO of Bad Wolf Corporation, he was a man who actually respected his employees, his clients, and most of all, his interns. At the tender age of forty-five, he was married with two kids, had a loving wife, and a reputable company. He smiled at her face and not her breasts whenever she delivered his coffee. In the beginning many of the interns were intimidated at the thought of taking the morning coffee up to the co-CEO up to the thirtieth floor. But Clara saw it as an opportunity, and took it in stride.

"Good morning Mr. Brisk." Clara walked in to see Mr. Brisk hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously on a pad of paper.

"Good morning Clara." He briefly looked up to return her smile.

She set his coffee gently on his table, setting the newspaper alongside it. Mr. Brisk didn't require much from his interns, maybe the odd menial task every once and a while, but as a whole he was a rather easygoing fellow. Clara straightened herself and was prepared to leave when Mr. Brisk called after her.

"Actually, Clara, can you hold on for a moment?"

Today was not like one of those days.

"Of course Mr. Brisk." She blinked in confusion.

"Oh stop with that 'Mr. Brisk'. He was my father, Jimmy will do." He started to rearrange certain papers on his desk, putting things aside until he reached under a rather impressive pile to pull up a familiar set of papers. It was her submission for the Library Gala. The very one she had to spend two days and two nights on, tearing her hair out for ideas.

"This," Jimmy said as he held it aloft, "was an amazing submission Clara."

A blush stained her cheeks, because _believing _it was an amazing project and _hearing _someone else confirm that it was were two entirely two different things.

"T-Thank you, sir." A tiny smile escaped her.

"It's so good in fact, that I'm turning it into a reality." Her brain crashed for half a second. Her inner train derailed. Her inner monologue plane flew into the Bermuda Triangle, never to be seen again.

"I beg your pardon?" she squeaked.

"Your submission. The powerpoints, the graphic innovations, hell, even the sparkly pink kitten you designed for the children's area, it's all yours." He laid her submission folder on the desk, watching her reaction.

"But…wait, what about Mikael? I thought he was conducting the presentation at the Gala?" Clara asked in panicked confusion. Mikael had been doing nothing but bragging for the past several days about how he had bagged the Gala presentation. Of course it disgusted her, especially with how he carried himself through the office and constantly stared at her breasts. But if he earned the presentation, she honestly couldn't complain.

"Mikael?" Jimmy guffawed for a good moment, "Clara, sweetheart, please don't let what I'm about to tell you leave this office, but Mikael's portfolio was…lacking. Now yours, _yours_ is something that would proudly represent Bad Wolf." He let a warm smile grace his features.

At first, she wanted to cry. Not out of joy, out of dismay. There was only one reason she had submitted the portfolio in the first place and it was because she knew she would never be picked. She knew as an intern for Bad Wolf the chances of her portfolio even being _considered_ were extremely slim, so the thought of being picked completely escaped her. But she had submitted her best and most proper work just so maybe, just maybe, someone would look at it and think, 'There's more to her than previously thought'. The thought of actually being picked just didn't cross her mind. Which is why she took that shift with Louise's Catering Company, and it was also why she decided to only help with setting up the Library in the morning with Gemma.

But she couldn't say _no_.

Only an idiot would say no. But she _had_ to say no. She would have to be _that_ idiot and say no because she knew that she had other obligations the night of the Gala. She-she-

"Thank you sir." Even her own voice sounded small to her ears.

"Now, I know how you must feel." Jimmy started, "Out of the hundreds of submissions, yours is the one that's picked. It's an amazing feeling isn't it? You must feel honored. Well, feel free to feel that way, but also know that you deserve this. You deserve this time in the spotlight. You even deserve the bonus."

"B-bonus?" Clara had no knowledge of this. "What bonus?"

"Well it's a significant amount of money. Something to the tune of…five thousand pounds?"

Her heart stopped. That, was a lot of money indeed.

"Five thousand pounds?" She collapsed onto a seat.

"It's like winning the lottery isn't it?" Jimmy asked gleefully.

"Not only that! But, naturally, seeing as how you're an intern, well, we can't have an _intern_ giving the presentation. So, we're hiring you!" his face broke out into an even bigger smile. But Clara could only feel faint.

"I-I don't know what to say."

"Yes, would be nice." The co-CEO joked.

Clara swallowed.

-x-

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Jimmy had assured her that he wouldn't announce the chosen submission until two days from now. Which gave Clara two days to do some damage control.

As she breezed through the rest of the day, she started to make a mental checklist.

'One, call Louise, tell her I can't work the shift.' But the sudden thought of Louise yelling at her, blaming her, and then breaking down came to mind. 'Okay maybe not.'

'Two, call Gemma, tell her I can't help set-up the library.' But then she could all ready see Margaret cackling away, easily seeing the Library as hers. 'Shit, I can't do _that_ either.'

'Three, call Elizabeth, tell her they should have a coffee sometime. At least after this whole thing blows over. If it ever blows over.' Clara sighed, putting a hand to her forehead, 'I think I'm going to be sick.'

"Clara? Clara are you all right?" a gentle hand touched her shoulder. Clara looked up from her desk to see a worried face looking back at her.

"I'm so sorry Donna, yes, I'm fine." Clara let out a breath.

"Sweetheart you look anything _but_ fine." Donna Noble huffed. Quickly she looked about to make sure no one was watching, before leaning in closer, "You know, if you really don't feel all that well, you can just go home. I'll cover you."

The brunette could feel her eyes start to water, because of all the selfless people she's ever met in this world, Donna Noble (soon to be Temple-Noble) was _the _most amazing person. They had met under bizarre circumstances. The resident git, whose name was Duncan but whose moniker in the workplace was Dum-Dum, was acting more git-like than usual. Donna, not being an intern and actually holding some standing in the company, was the only one in the office who would be able to put Dum-Dum in his place. However once she was gone all bets were off. That day was one such day. Clara had only been interning for a month, when apparently Dum-Dum's girlfriend had left him because she had caught him in bed with another girl (surprise, surprise) and he was making sure everyone at the office knew about how _horrid_ she was as a girlfriend to begin with. He complained about everything, from the color of her hair to how she brushed her teeth. He would tell anyone within an earshot how she had foul breath and how her hands were always so dry. Clara, all ready feeling haggard from having spent the entire night finishing a big project for her Psych 301 class, was on edge. So when Duncan had asked her in a not so subtle way if she cared to know any other unattractive traits his former girlfriend had, she snapped.

"Yes, we know she had yellow teeth. Yes, we know that all the meals she prepared were _completely _inedible and disgusting. Yes, we know all about her atrocious wardrobe and how she couldn't dress herself even if her life depended on it! But you know what Dum-Dum? No matter how much you slander this poor girl, we're still so happy for her because she finally left a gigantic git like you!" she exploded. The silence in the office was deafening, and it was only until she took in the astonished look on Duncan's face did she realize her mistake.

"I-I…I-I…" she stuttered.

The silence was pierced, however, by a slow clap from behind her. Clara whirled and only paled even more when she saw Donna standing there, clapping in blatant amusement.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Donna announced mirth evident in her tone of voice.

"Did you _hear_ what she said to me?!" Duncan accused, standing to his feet, "She called me a git!"

"Because you are! She's the only one here with balls to say so to your face!" the look of shock on Duncan's face is still a cherished memory to Clara.

"I've just been in a large meeting with many of our higher ups, and they've determined that due to some discrepancies in the company, we're going to have to let some people go." Everyone took in a deep breath, having been oblivious to there being such an important meeting occurring.

"Actually, I take that back, we're only getting rid of one person," her eyes narrowed on Duncan, "Now that _that's_ over with, Duncan, I'm sorry, but we're going to have to let you go." The man spluttered in even more shock.

"That-you have to be mistaken-"

"Oh, that's correct, I am. I'm _not_ sorry, but we're going to have to let you go." Donna rectified, "You have three hours to collect your belongings and to leave the premises, or else I'll have to get security to escort you out."

"You can't be serious! There's no one else in this department who can do what I do! Who-who are you going to get to replace me? Her?!" In fury he gestured towards Clara, who still stood there, unable to comprehend the events unfolding before her.

"Maybe." Donna shrugged, "Whoever it is we get, it doesn't concern you. Three hours Dum-Dum. You, come with me." The older woman gestured for Clara to follow her, and the girl happily complied, eager to escape the glaring eyes of the recently fired Dum-Dum.

Once they were a good distance away, Donna addressed her.

"That, was brilliant."

Clara gaped.

"The look on his face was priceless! Every time I'm feeling mopey I'm just going to picture Duncan McCready's face in my mind, and I'll laugh myself silly. You're going to go far in this company sweetheart. Clara right? You're the one who always gets my coffee order correct. You cannot _believe_ the amount of people here who don't know the difference between a latte and a frappuccino." Donna continued.

"Wait…so, am _I_ fired?" Clara questioned in confusion.

"You? Pah! You I like. And I don't say that often enough." Donna winked.

And from then on Donna had taken her under her wing, showing her the ins and outs of the company. Introducing her to senior partners and those who had strong influence amongst the employees. It was a magnificently bizarre experience.

Now Donna was strict, not unrelenting and obstinate, just strict, where you had to be on the verge of death itself for her to even consider letting you go home early. But here she was, urging Clara to go home only because she was having a crisis.

"Donna I couldn't do that."

"Course you can! Think of it as an early congratulatory present. Go home, open a bottle of wine, call that boy you've been too scared of calling, and have a merry night." The red head quirked her mouth into an impish smile at Clara's sputtering.

"H-how do you know about that?" she was assured by Jimmy that he would tell no one.

"Darling, who do you think suggested your piece to him in the first place?" Donna asked with a tilt of her head.

Clara blinked. Oh, Donna Noble. You brilliant woman you.

She hugged the older woman tight, and Donna laughed, hugging her back.

"You, are a god amongst men." Clara admitted.

"Goddess, you mean." Donna corrected in good-natured humor.

"Now go on and get, you. We'll see you next week." Donna pushed her towards the elevator, and Clara didn't need to be told twice.

-x-

The moment Clara came home she called Elizabeth, because she was still too chicken to call Louise or Gemma. Her sister answered on the fifth ring.

"Hello? Oh can you hold a mo?" Elizabeth cut in before Clara could say anything. There was a girlish scream in the background, which Clara could easily identify as Gabrielle's.

"I'm going to get you little girl!" Her sister yelled, probably in the direction of her daughter. Clara smiled, because at the age of two, Gabrielle was easily the most energetic child Clara knew. Then again Clara didn't know many children, but that didn't deter the fact that Gabrielle seemed to run on nothing but Lucky Charms and My Little Pony.

"Sorry, hello?" Elizabeth asked into the phone.

"Hey Lizzie." Clara said slowly, guilty at not having called her sister for such a long time.

"Clara? Clara! How _are_ you? Please tell me you're calling because you've found a boyfriend. A darling, handsome man who's come to sweep you off you feet so you can become his Countess or something?" Elizabeth implored. Clara sighed, now she remembered why she didn't call as often as she did.

"Are you and mother still going to go on about that? Look, that's not why I called. I…I have some news." But Clara's throat constricted before she could finish.

"What? Oh my God, you're not pregnant are you? Because let me tell you, Gabrielle might seem like fun, but at your age you don't need something to distract you from getting your Psychology degree." Clara winced, another thing she'd have to tell her.

"No! God, no. I'm not pregnant." Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief.

"Phew! Well that's a relief then, so what is it you need to tell me?"

Clara had every intention of looking for guidance. Really, she did. But she could all ready imagine the disapproval on Elizabeth's face, her words, her actions, and her very attitude. _Mom and dad put away a lot of money for you to go to college. You shouldn't throw it all away by taking some job at some company!_

"I called…because I really missed Gabby. And I knew you and Harold don't go out as often as you do, so I thought I would watch her myself. You know, an auntie and niece sort of day." Clara lied through her teeth.

"Oh! Well that's spectacular because Harold and I actually _were_ thinking about visiting his sister up north on Saturday but you know how Gabby feels about that place. Filled with cats and smelling like cat piss. We knew she'd throw a tantrum the entire way there, so do you think you could watch her for the day?" Clara let out a breath, going through her schedule in her head.

"Saturday? Uhm, yeah! Saturday's great!" Clara agreed. But in her mind she was panicking. Saturday? Saturday? Why did she feel like she was doing something important Saturday?

"Wonderful, see you then yeah?"

"Y-yeah…see you then." Clara ended the call, looking at her phone in disbelief. She then hit her forehead repeatedly with her mobile.

"Stupid, stupid! How could you be so stupid?! Why didn't you just tell her?! Ugh!" Clara stormed off.

-x-

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading! I know, I know, when's the Doctor coming in? Believe me, he's coming, but there must be back story! I demand it to be so! Thanks again for reading and I hope you have a wonderful day.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: My beautifully faithful readers, welcome! I've tweaked this chapter so much I'm actually very proud of it. Not to say that the other chapters aren't worth some credit, but I've realized too late that there were some errors. Please forgive me for any mistakes you may see, I'm currently doing this un-beta'd and in a rush. Shameful, I know. On that note, if anyone is willing to Beta this story for me, I'll gladly take applications. Please PM me if you can! Anyway, let the show continue my dear readers!

Disclaimer: Don't own! Not even the TARDIS.

-x-

_Smaller on the Outside_

_"You're the man in my dreams." "Well I've never gotten that kind of response before." Oswin/Eleventh Doctor. _

-x-

For the next two days Clara continued as if everything was normal. Technically everything _was_ normal, just, you know, it wasn't every day you get a job offer for a prestigious design company, as well as receive the honor of presenting a major presentation to hundreds of potential clients and donors. Oh yeah, no sweat. _But_ not only that, but it was also expected of her to still attend the actual gala as an employee for Louise's Desserts Plus, and then still find time to help out with the library itself before the gala.

'Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out.' Clara reiterated in her mind. A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, breaking her from her reverie.

"Oh my God!" Clara jolted, and in turn caused the owner of the hand to retract quickly.

"Jesus, Clara, you're awfully jumpy," Donna observed. "Look, if you're worried about what others will think about you receiving the presentation, well, you shouldn't be. Worried, that is."

"What? Why?" Clara questioned. She knew there were easily a handful of people on this very floor who would blow a gasket at the thought of Clara-the-intern receiving the presentation. Actually, now that she thought about it, she felt as if she should fear for her life.

"Because you earned it! It wasn't just dropped onto your lap like a puppy. You did _good_. Wait, no, better than good, you did _damn_ good, really good, fantastically good work. To the point that _your_ efforts were the ones that were chosen, out of _all_ the submissions. You should be proud of yourself! Hold your head up high and all that." While Donna was still attempting to gather Clara's spirits, the brunette was just happy they were in an empty hallway on the third floor, so no one could hear Donna's enthusiastic gesticulations.

"I…well…when you put it that way…" Clara surmised.

"You're the shit right now Clara. Just embrace it." Donna winked and walked away. The current/former intern could only watch Donna's retreating back in gracious confusion. Clara appreciated what Donna was trying to do, really she did, but it was more than the presentation that had Clara on edge. She still had yet to call Louise or Gemma. Well, that was a lie. Louise had called her out of frustration and all Clara could do was squeak in affirmative noises while Louise rattled off instructions. Gemma on the other hand was still busy with whatever it was the castle needed tending to and hadn't had the time to contact her.

"What am I going to do?" Clara grumbled to herself. The girl looked out of the window, seeing nothing but people, busy in their lives, walking to and fro. While she could barely make out their faces, a person's clothing and stature was easily identifiable. She leaned against the wall length window, perfectly content with watching people pass, uneager to continue the rest of the day.

Her eyes focused on a particular person walking down the sidewalk. The person was rather tall, and had a lankiness about him, as if he wasn't too sure about with his long limbs, but had grown accustomed to them out of necessity. He, she assumed the person was male, stood straight, as opposed to his colleagues around him who slouched. She spied a tweed jacket that hung around his frame as if he wore it many, many times before. Green trousers, good work boots, was that a satchel? He even had a-

'A bowtie.' Clara realized. That-no-that couldn't be.

She straightened and immediately moved away from the glass window. She moved forward, unwilling to believe what she was seeing. But yes, this stranger, he moved just like the man from her dreams. On the sidewalk, a baby dropped his toy from his stroller, and while the baby wailed for it the mother remained oblivious. This stranger who wasn't quite a stranger quickly picked up the toy and stopped the mother.

"Miss! Miss!" she could faintly hear him say through the window.

Yes. No. _Yes_. No!

"You…" Clara whispered in astonishment.

She sprinted to the stairwell, which was a marvelous feat considering she was in heels. They clapped noisily against the stairs and echoed harshly against her ears. But she didn't care. She rounded past the second floor. She needed answers and she knew the only one who would be willing to do so would be the bowtie wearing, tweed lugging mountain of a man. By God she was going to catch him even if she broke a heel on her expensive Jimmy Choos.

The ground floor stairwell door resisted against her push but it opened after a good deal. She clip-clopped across the ground floor reception area, unaware of those looking at her like a mad woman.

Bursting through the office doors she looked left and right, people moving past her as she did so. Where was he? This was impossible. This was insane! He was _right_ here!

Giving a cursory glance to her surroundings she found the woman with the baby whose toy the Doctor returned. She hurried up to them, evading people as she did so.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, Miss, that man, who returned your babies toy, did you happen to see where he went?" She questioned, out of breath. The woman looked up at her, startled, before letting the question sink in.

"Oh, that gentleman? I'm sorry dear I didn't see where he went off to." She apologized.

Inwardly Clara gave a noise of annoyance and dismay, "Oh, that's fine. Thanks though."

"But I did manage to catch his name." The woman quickly said before Clara could walk away. But the brunette could only furrow her brows in confusion. Name? The Doctor was simply the Doctor he didn't _have_ a name. Or, well, he probably did, but he doesn't tell anyone, especially not random strangers.

"John Smith. Doctor, John Smith. Awfully nice fellow, even bought Robert an ice cream." Clara looked down and saw that the baby did indeed have an ice cream.

"Oh, well that was nice of him." Clara faltered.

"Yes, yes it was." the woman smiled.

"Uhm well, thank you, I suppose."

"You're welcome dear."

Clara started to trek back to the office at a more subdued pace. Yes, she was going crazy. There was no other explanation for it. The man who helped this woman and bought her child an ice cream was _a_ doctor, not _the_ Doctor. There, that solved everything didn't it? The person she saw was just a figment of her imagination, he just happened to look so similar to the one in her dreams that she immediately just put his face on a person. Besides, that's all they were, dreams. Or nightmares, really. Clara sighed, all this stress was definitely getting to her.

-x-

For the announcement of the chosen submission everyone congregated in the main presentation room on the fifth floor. Normally, it could fit thirty comfortably, but since about every single person in the company was there, it was standing room only. Clara had gotten there late, so she had to push past some people in order to get a better view.

"Excuse me, sorry, pardon me." Clara wedged her way through the crowd, while others gave her contemptuous looks. Their judgment was so palpable it made her feel as if she was coated in oil under their stares. All ready she could imagine their thoughts, _'She's an _intern_, what is she even doing here?'_

'Well boys and girls, _this_ intern's work was chosen. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.' Clara thought in retaliation. Donna spotted her amongst the crowd and waved her over, indicating a seat she had saved just for her. Now practically everyone was staring at her with alternating expressions. Confusion, envy, and anger were just some she saw. Donna Noble saved her a seat. If that didn't speak waves, she didn't know what did.

Quickly, or as quickly as she could manage, she managed to get to the seat in one piece.

"Honestly, I thought you weren't going to make it." Donna has said to her by way of greeting.

"What?" Clara asked. My, she was awfully articulate today.

"I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't come. Actually, no, I would, so I'm glad you're here. But you're cutting it awfully close Clara." There was a small reprimand in her voice, Clara could tell.

"I'm sorry, I meant to come earlier but something…required my attention." Clara phrased carefully.

"Oh posh, you're here now, that's all that matters." Donna smiled at her and Clara knew she was forgiven for any transgressions, no matter how minor, she had committed. Clara smiled back because being in Donna Noble's good graces was just as necessary as coffee in this company.

A noise at the front caught everyone's attention and all the subdued conversations that were happening around the conference room ceased.

"Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming to our presently crowded conference room," Jimmy started, smiling at everyone who had gathered.

"First and foremost I'll have to make a few announcements…" he then proceeded to make a laundry list of decisions and upkeeps that needed to be reiterated in regards to the upcoming gala. So-and-so was coming, be sure to suck up to him while you can. Any allergies that need to be taken care of? Or just not come at all, which would be nice too. Attire should be appropriately scandalous. Maximum of one and a half guests allowed per employee. Make sure to act in a way that would represent the company in a good light. Meaning, streaking in the nude throughout the gala was an a-okay. All of this Clara attempted to absorb but in the end she couldn't concentrate, hence the muddled information.

"And finally, the moment we've all been waiting for…" everyone visibly straightened in their seats, "the selected submission."

"Now, before I admit who it is, let me just say that there was an astounding amount of work that the board and I reviewed. They were all phenomenal in their own right and it was definitely a hard decision to choose just one. However, things being as they are, we indeed had to choose the one, and as you all know, we chose the best. Out of each and every one of you, we chose the one person whose work would best represent Bad Wolf in the best way possible. This particular submission was articulate, detailed, and the most imaginative. It was, to put it in a word, perfect." Jimmy was sure to make eye contact with each and every single person in the room, never spending too much time on just the one person. He had even skimmed over Clara for half a second, and even _she_ thought she wasn't going to get it, despite him telling her beforehand. It was building the tension in the room masterfully, aware of the emotion of his audience and molding it to his will. It was masterful. It was cunning.

'This is bullshit.' Clara thought morosely. 'My submission was nowhere near as 'perfect' as he says.'

"So, now, I'm very, very happy to announce, that the chosen submission is…"

-x-

"See that wasn't all that bad." Donna nudged Clara with her elbow.

"Not that bad? _Not that bad?_ Half the people in that room were looking at each other asking, 'Who's Clara?' and when I stood up the other half were glaring at me! I'm afraid to come to work tomorrow. I'm afraid that I might not even wake up in the morning." This was not an exaggeration. The Bad Wolf Corporation was by all means a competitive establishment. In order to get noticed their work had to be the best amongst the best. And it was still pretty hard to be noticed when everyone else in the workplace is equally as gifted as you, if not more so. But something about this particular project hit close to home for Clara.

She frequented the library ever since she was a little girl. Every single aspect of it she's known ever since she could read. The rickety bathroom doors to the crinkled papers in the Encyclopedia section. _No one_ understood the library as well as she (expect maybe Gemma) and she could gladly say that she knew which things were in more disrepair than others. The others who've submitted probably went into the library for days at a time, observed, and left, not having dedicated as much time as she did.

So yes, her submission was detailed and well thought out because she knew the library intimately, inside _and_ out. She knew that the mounted decorative clock that stood tall amongst the entrance hall was finicky, and while it looked spectacular, needed to be re-winded often. There was a particular tile in the non-fiction section that couldn't be moved despite being out of the place by the mold that's been collected around it. And the children's section was lacking in things that could make it an even _better_ children's section. Toys, signs, posters, things that children can get hands-on interaction with.

"You, need to calm you silly little butt. No one's going to kill you, and if they do, you can always haunt them when you're dead. For now, I just need you to breath, and tell me that you'll be fine for the rest of the day. After all, it's not like you cheated." Donna was impeccable in her posture and her attitude, just watching her made Clara start to relax.

'Is that considered cheating? Having a home field advantage?' Clara mused, because it was true, she did feel as if her certain advantage gave her leverage. Hesitantly, she voiced her thoughts aloud.

"But, Donna, I've been spending my _entire_ life in that library. I know every nook and cranny of the structure, the faults, the necessities, everything. Doesn't that, I don't know, make it unfair?" the brunette steeled herself for Donna's answer, knowing that whatever she said would be the truth, but sometimes painfully so.

"Hm. In my opinion? I think that justifies your submission being picked. Who else would better the library other than someone who knew it intimately?"

Donna smiled at the intern, "You just need to believe in yourself more often."

Right, because that's definitely something someone can fix overnight.

-x-

Author's Note: NEXT CHAPTER IS THE CHAPTER YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! I'm excited, are you? Thank you for reading, I'll be sure to write as soon as I can.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Well, here it is! The chapter you've all been waiting for! We've gotten a glimpse of the Doctor in the previous chapters, but here he is! In the metaphorical flesh! I never realized how hard it would be to write him in this particular setting, even though it's brief. It'll make sense after you've read the chapter. To all of my faithful readers, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own!

-x-

_Smaller on the Outside_

_"You're the man in my dreams." "Well I've never gotten that kind of response before." Oswin/Eleventh Doctor. _

-x-

It was time to man up Clara.

No. No, that didn't sound appropriate.

It was time to grow a pair!

Oh, God, that sounded worse.

Clara rubbed her temples, wishing her headache away. It was Friday now, two days after the tragedy that was the company announcement and things weren't looking all that better. Sure, now people actually _noticed_ her walking down the halls now but that certainly wasn't the type of acknowledgement she was looking for. She wanted to be known because her work was phenomenal. That she could go toe to toe with the best of them. That she walked the line of death and survived. Okay now she was starting to sound like a Terminator. Eyeing the Ibuprofen bottle on her shelf she only hesitated for a moment before popping two pills in her mouth.

She had an office now. A legitimate _office_. Well, it was more of a cubicle, and it was surrounded by prowling piranhas but still, it was her space. Her very own sanctified area that she could call her own and dismiss anyone who dare come near. Not that anyone _had_ come near for the past two days that she's been here. Other than Donna.

Current office issues aside, there was something of more importance on her mind. She had to call Louise. There was absolutely no possible way she could be the speaker for the presentation and work as a caterer for Louise. She wouldn't even think about the implications.

Phone in hand she dallied through her contacts. With every intention of calling Louise she scrolled up and down. Up and down. Up. And. Down.

'C'mon Oswald. You're a big girl now. And big girls own up to their responsibilities. Now _own_ it.' Clara zeroed in on Louise's number and called.

"Hello?" Louise sounded a bit frazzled but surprisingly more put together than Clara expected her to be.

"Hi Louise!"

"Clara! Oh thank God it's you. Everyone around me is just driving me absolutely crazy. No one here knows how to make a goddamn pastry correctly; yes I'm looking at _you_ Roger, and the rest of my staff has been either avoiding my calls or not coming to the shop! It's a blessing knowing I could count on _you_ Clara to call me. So, what's up?" Louise sounded more and more exhausted with every word that came out. It was true that most of her employees would avoid her every time there was a big even coming soon, mostly for the sake of their own sanities due to Louise's perfectionism. But she sounded so _tired_.

Clara's throat constricted, 'How am I supposed to tell her now?!'

"U-Uh, I was just-uh calling, because, I had to tell you something very, very important." The brunette was now tapping her hand on her desk in a panic.

"Something important? About what?" Louise questioned.

"It's about the gala."

"Oh! I've been meaning to tell you Clara. Are you sitting down?" Louise interrupted so swiftly Clara was actually startled.

"Yes. Yes I am. Why?" she asked slowly.

"Well, my dear girl, I've recently appointed _you_ as head caterer the night of the gala! I thought, out of everyone who deserved the position, it would be you. Plus, Sandra couldn't make it, some family problem or something. Between you and me I think she's lying. She's probably going out of town to see her boyfriend up North. What's his face? Zack? Brack? Anyway, I hope you're ready, love, I know you'll do fine. I have to go now, but call again within the next three days yeah? We need to discuss some things. Ta!"

And just like that Clara's world imploded in on itself.

-x-

After work, she went to the one place she's also gone to for comfort. Her grandmother's.

When Nana died, they couldn't keep the house, so that went to the market. She was buried and placed in the family plot next to granddad. It was a very brief affair, mum barely concealing her tears and papa intent on consoling his wife and two daughters. The brevity of the occasion was punctuated by Elizabeth getting pregnant and married, in that order.

As was expected, everyone visited Nana at least three times a week. Then gradually, due to life getting in the way, it lessened. From three times a week, to two, then one, then once a month, and then five times a year. Clara, on the other hand, frequented Nana's grave more so than anyone else in the family. Maybe it was due to mum finally overcoming her grief and Lizzie preoccupied with raising Gabby.

Whatever it was, the youngest Oswald didn't think on it too heavily.

The family plot was located at a cemetery a good time away from London. The very act of taking the train out of London was doing loads of good for her stress. She hadn't told anyone where she was going, impromptu as it were, and she now realized how bad of an idea that was.

Getting off the train, she breathed in the cool air. While it was certainly chilly the air still filed her with a sense of comfort. Nana was buried in the same town she was born in, raised in, married in, and then raised her children in. While Nana was more than content with her lot, her two children weren't. They had immediately moved to colleges far from home and only visiting on holidays.

But Clara still remembered with perfect clarity the days she spent here as a girl with her sister. Running down the street to buy ice cream at the little shop owned by Nick and his cute son Robbie. Going down by the lake to watch the dragonflies skim over the water. Swinging on the old squeaky swing set that wouldn't go very higher for fear of it collapsing on you. Visiting her grandparent's house was the highlight of her childhood.

She began her trek down to the cemetery, which was about a ten to fifteen minute walk from the train station. No one was there to greet her or hinder her journey. It wasn't odd, the lack of people, after all it was nearing autumn and most people would be inside at this time of day.

Clara made sure to buy flowers before she walked towards the outskirts of town. The crinkling of the plastic surrounding the flowers and the huff of her breath were the only sounds she heard the entire walk down.

Finally reaching the family plot, she gently placed the flowers in between her grandparent's graves.

"Hi Nana, hi grandpa." She greeted. The only response she received was the wind brushing her cheeks.

"So, uhm, I'm in deep royal shit." There was no use in a preamble. Nana didn't particularly care if she cussed and neither did grandpa, only if it was appropriate, and only if it wasn't directed towards a person.

"I-I have three obligations. And they're all on the same night, at the _exact_ same time. There's this gala occurring at the library I work at, it's to help raise awareness of all the good the library does. It's being hosted by the Bad Wolf Corporation, the very same design company that I'm interning for, and-and Nana, I got _hired_." she professed.

It was one of the last things she told her Nana before she passed. That after grueling hours of work put into the company she was accepted as an intern. She's never seen her Nana look so proud, before or since.

"But, oh God, Nana. I have to do this big presentation at the gala. It's the main presentation, the very same presentation this gala is revolved around. But that's not it. On the same night for the same occasion I have to cater for Louise, _and_ as an employee of the library I have to somehow manage to keep the library in stable order throughout the night." Clara let out a shaky breath. It's the first time she's been able to vocalize her worries. Already the tension that was sitting in the pit of her stomach lessens.

"I don't know what to do." She whispers. She came here for guidance but she knew she would find none. But she knew she would find one thing she wouldn't be able to find anywhere else.

Solace.

She sat on the grass, wet and recently cut, but she didn't care. Suddenly, a voice that sounded much like her grandmother, rattled in her head, _That's it?_

"What do you mean that's it? That's my current midlife crisis, take it or leave it Nan." Clara muttered under her breath.

_And here I thought you were pregnant._ Clara could imagine her mocking smile.

"You know, Lizzie thought the same exact thing. I tried to tell her, but the words wouldn't leave my mouth." The granddaughter admitted.

_Good. Knowing your sister she would have blabbed to your mother and then where would you be? Going as crazy as a chicken with its head cut off. God bless your mother girl, but when it comes to situations she can't handle she tends to overdo it. _There was loving admonition in her tone, the sort of thing only her Nana could pull off.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so."

_Of course you're not. I'm your grandmother, it's required we think alike. Now, girl, about this pickle you're in…you have an obligation to do right by all these people. You should cancel the other two appointments and focus on the one. _Her Nana made it sound like she should already know all of this. And really, she _had_ but she doubted herself the entire way. But before she could reply, the voice in her mind continued.

_But then again, if there's anyone I know who could do this sweet pea, it's you._ Ah, there it is.

"What?" Clara blinked.

_My darling Clara. You're far too different from your sister and your mother and I don't mean that in a bad way. Maybe you've inherited all of this from your father, or maybe it skips a generation, but you're far too strong to just let something like this pull you down. If there's anyone in this entire Universe who could pull something like this off, sweet pea, it's you. _

Tears are welling in her eyes, because while others would dismiss voices in their head conjured by their own imagination, this sounded too much like her grandmother to just dismiss. Through life and in death, her Nana will always be her number one supporter.

_Go get 'em girl._

-x-

Saturday comes along and Clara has to hustle to get to her sister's place on time. She knew Gabby was an early riser and that Lizzie and Harold would have to get up early if they wanted to go to his sister's. She grabs a taxi because if she takes the bus again she'll be way too late.

Gabby was at that age where she still believed in fairy tales but thought they were meant for "little" children. Or, in her words, "littler" children.

Which meant that yes, she would be amused to watch children's movies but complain about them the entire time. Clara rubbed at her forehead, wondering how Gabby grew up so quickly. But she wouldn't dwell on it now.

She could see their house now, and when the taxi came to a stop she saw Lizzie and Harold in the driveway, with a little Gabby following them around still in her pajamas.

Gabby, naturally, was the first one to see her, "Aunt Clara! Aunt Clara aunt Clara aunt Clara!" and she was attacked by a four foot munchkin.

"Oof! Hello to you too! How's my favorite niece?" Clara asked, poking her favorite niece in the stomach.

"But I'm your only niece!" Gabby protested.

"Ah, so you are. And what has my only niece been up to hm?" another round of tickles to the stomach. Gabby's giggling had caught the attention of her parents, who came out of the garage to greet her.

"Clara! I didn't think you would get here this early." Lizzie said, coming to her hug her little sister.

"Well I knew you two would get a good head start, so I didn't want you worrying about leaving Gabby alone for too long. Hi Harold." Clara also hugged her brother-in-law.

"Well that's awful thoughtful of you. Isn't that thoughtful love?" Harold asked his wife. Her brother-in-law had an odd habit of asking other people confirmation of what he thought. It wasn't too odd, but it was something Clara found absolutely amusing, especially when it seemed as if he was just asking his wife to make sure it was all right to think the things he did.

"Of course it is dear." Lizzie agreed. She gave her husband's shoulder a squeeze which Harold returned with a smile. Clara's stomach itched at the sight of how comfortable they were with each other. It wasn't jealousy, per say, but something akin to it.

"Eeeeew. I think mommy and daddy are going to do that gross thing again." Gabby whined. Obviously her parents heard it but took no heed, instead curling in each other's arms.

Clara chuckled, "And what gross thing might that be?"

"That gross thing!" Gabby pointed at her parents currently smooching in the driveway, in plain sight of all children and little sisters.

"Oh no! Shield your eyes, shield your eyes! Into the house!" Clara mocked warned. Gabby shrieked in joy but followed orders, blocking the view of her parents with her hands whilst running back into the house with Clara hot on her heels.

Gabby ran straight into the living room, jumping on the comfiest couch Clara has ever laid down on, and curling herself into a ball.

The little girl asked something but was muffled from her face being pressed against a pillow.

"I'm sorry love I couldn't hear you." Clara said, putting down her jacket and purse on a nearby chair.

"I said, are you coming with me to my appointment?" Gabby clarified. But her aunt only looked at her in confusion.

"What appointment?"

Lizzie took that moment to walk in, "Ah yes, her appointment. I'm so sorry Clara but I had forgotten all about it. It's today at two, with her pediatrician. I've already cleared it with them that you can take her, all they really need is an adult to make sure she doesn't run off with the candy dish, like _last_ time." Gabby's mother gave her daughter a pointed look which Gabby immediately avoided.

"You stole the candy dish?" Clara asked incredulously.

"Nuh-uh! Just all the candy in it!" Gabby protested waving her little fists in the air.

"That still counts little girl." Lizzie wagged her finger which just caused her daughter to pout.

"Well, we'll be off now. Harold's in the car and just waiting on me. You," she pointed at her daughter, "behave for your aunt Clara, she may be your fun aunt but if you misbehave she'll tell us and then you'll be in big trouble." She leaned down to kiss her daughter.

"And you," Clara jumped at suddenly having a finger in her face, "make sure you don't feed her junk food all day! You know how upset her stomach gets. The address for her pediatrician is on the fridge." Clara nodded obediently and she also got a kiss on the forehead.

"Bye loves! Have a fun day!" Lizzie waved them off.

"Drive safe!" Clara said to her retreating form.

"Bye mommy!" Gabby finished off.

When they were absolutely alone in the house, Clara looked down at her niece, "So what's on today's agenda?"

"Uhm," Gabby scrunched up her face in concentration, "Uhm, uhm, oh! The park! And then the ice cream store, and then the candy store, and then the toy store-"

"Whoa there munchkin, your mum just said to lay low on the sweets. Pick one, ice cream or candy, and then _maybe_ we'll go to the toy store." Clara corrected.

Gabby pouted, "But aunt Clara-"

"No buts munchkin. You pick right now, or else we'll just have to go to the library." Her aunt threatened, widening her eyes comically in hopes of implanting the very thought of the library as a threat.

"Oh. I like the library." Clara faltered.

"You…you do?" Clara asked in confusion.

"I do! I go there every Wednesday with daddy when he gets home from work. Did you know they have a knight from a faraway land read us books in the fun section? Of course I know he's not a _real_ knight. He's probably just a squire or something because he's never wearing any armor. But he's really funny! I like him. Can we go to the library?" Clara's niece looked up at her pleadingly.

Clara, however, could only gap. How could she have not seen her niece and brother-in-law at the castle? Oh wait, she never gets Wednesday shifts because that's when she's interning at Bad Wolf. Well, that settled that. But it touched her heart because it was actually at her suggestion that those who volunteer to read to the children should dress up as fictional characters.

"Of _course_ we can go to the library, the minute you get your little butt dressed." Gabby was already half way up the stairs and squealing by the time Clara finished her sentence. She watched her niece with fondness, unbelieving that her niece visited the castle at least once a week without her having knowing.

"You're getting old Oswald." Clara said softly, rubbing at her forehead. She stood however to look at the address on the fridge. It was a good walk from the suburban house, it was actually deep in the city. Which would probably mean another cab ride there. Before she could even worry about the expenses however, she saw a note on the fridge being held up by a magnet.

_CAB FAIR_, _CANDY FAIR, AND TOY FAIR_

Attached to the note was a baggie with a significant amount of money inside. She wasn't the slightest offended, already having had spent a lifetime with Lizzie to know her little quirks. She was always adamant on paying for _everything_ herself. That apparently extended to her child.

"Aunt Clara Aunt Clara Aunt Clara!" the munchkin shouted repeatedly as she went down the stairs, immediately grabbing Clara's attention.

"Yes, yes, yes?" She asked her niece.

"Do you think the squire will be there when we get to the library?" the little girl asked. Clara scrunched up her face in thought. On a Saturday? Last time she checked Saturdays were reserved for Landen, or as he liked to be called, the great Warlock Beastro.

"Have you ever met a warlock Gabby?" Clara asked. The little girl shook her head, her eyes widened comically at the thought.

"Well today is _your_ lucky day."

-x-

"…and so I smote the deadly beast! It roared its mighty roar as it fell but I knew that it was as good as dead! And as its great carcass descended upon the castle steps, its entire body went up in a gigantic _poof_!" and here the Great Warlock Beastro gathered glitter into his hands and showered them upon the children, Gabby included. They were in awe of this great Warlock, capable of defeating dragons with a single blow. All the parents were immensely amused, finding it such an entertaining idea to see someone so interactive with the children. Clara could only smile, Landen was known for being an enthusiast at heart, but when he was in any specific role he was a _natural_.

Gabby was enthralled, as were the other children. While she was listening to his story Clara had actually checked the back to see if Gemma was working, in hopes of trying to explain her upcoming dilemma. However, to her dismay, she only found Margaret. As usual, the woman had only did her "polite sneer" as everyone at the castle had called it, and told her that Gemma wasn't there.

Clara had only nodded and hightailed it out of there. She only ever wanted to deal with Margaret when she was being paid to do so.

When story time was over Gabby had immediately rushed to her aunt, ecstatic at the prospect of hearing that an actual Warlock defeated an actual dragon. For a child who had immediately discerned that their knight wasn't really a knight she immediately believed that the Warlock was as true as he said.

"And then he smoted the dragon!" Gabby finished her tale.

"Smite, munchkin. The past-tense of smote is smite." Clara corrected, smiling.

"Oh. Well he did that! And it turned into glitter!" Gabby exclaimed, waving her hands in imitation of the Warlock's. Clara laughed at her enthusiasm, inwardly glad that her niece had enjoyed it so much.

"Well, now that that's over with munchkin, I do believe you have a doctor's appointment to go to." Gabby's enthusiasm immediately deflated.

"But I want to stay longer!" Gabby whined.

"Ah ah ah, what did we agree to earlier before we left the house?" Clara asked. Gabby crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, but at Clara's expectant look she recited the deal they had made, with grace.

"Should I, Gabriella Lucinda Winthrope, complain about going to the doctor's, I will immediately revoke my opportunity of going to the candy store." The little girl grumbled.

Clara, however, smiled. She had found this little trick when she had learned that when her niece was still engrossed in her fairy tale beliefs, Gabby always thought that a deal was a very, very sacred vow. As she had witnessed in fairy tales and in every other story her mother and father told her at night, should someone not partake in what they had promised, a terrible, terrible curse was sure to befall them. She knew her parents hadn't figured it out yet, but her aunt Clara had almost immediately. Now, in certain situations, should it demand it, Clara made sure to make a deal with her niece in order to make sure she behaved.

"Oh stop pouting." A sudden idea sprung to Clara's mind, "If I show you something no one else in this library has seen, will that make everything easier?"

"What kind of something?" Gabby asked thoughtfully.

"A secretive kind of something." Clara whispered in awe.

Gabby pretended to think it over, but Clara knew she had her when she had said it was a secret.

"Fine. But can we still go to the candy store?" the little girl weaved her hand with her aunt's and looked up at her pleadingly.

"So long as you remember our deal I don't see why not." Her aunt said. The elder woman led her niece through the library, going up and up the floors, with Gabby growing more excited with every step. When they had reached the attic door, Clara had made sure no one was around to see them go in, ushering in her niece.

"Aunt Clara it's awfully dark in here." Gabby pointed out, grasping for something to cling onto.

"Here," Clara made sure her niece was holding the railing leading up the stairs, "hold onto this tight all right? And go up slowly."

Gabby obeyed, holding onto the rail as she made her slow ascent. Clara behind her every step of the way to make sure the little girl didn't trip.

The roof of the attic had large one-way windows attached to the roof. As it was still midday, the sunlight flooding the uppermost floor allowed for an ample view. The first time Clara had been up here, it was in the dead of the night and she only had a small torch to view with. Now that everything was present to her, even she couldn't hold in her gasp of surprise.

The attic was expansive as it was abandoned. There were things she hadn't realized that were here. Old paintings and books that seemed more like relics than castoffs. Furniture from a bygone age, but still looked completely fashionable. Boxes and boxes were piled high, of what they contained she could only guess. A table full of old toys caught Gabby's attention but Clara reeled her in before she could stray.

"Now what I'm about to show you has to be kept a secret, alright? Something between you and me. If anyone finds out I took you up into the attic I could get fired." Gabby nodded her head solemnly, realizing how important this was.

Clara smiled and kissed her niece's forehead.

"Now take a gander, at this beauty." And Clara led them to the old Police Box.

"_Wow_." Gabby breathed. While yes, at first glance the Police Box wasn't something that caught much attention, the more intently you stared at it, the more appealing it became. And Gabby couldn't take her eyes off of it.

"What is it?" Gabby asked in awe.

Clara hesitated, not entirely sure herself, but decided to amuse her niece.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Clara said in feigned bravado, leaning against the side of the Police Box.

"Yes I would." Gabby said, indignant.

"Hmmmm, well, since I know I can trust you," Clara leaned down to her niece, whispering, "it's a time machine."

Gabby gave her a blank look, "Really?"

"Really! How else did you think it got here? There's only one way up to this attic and it's the way we came up. That narrow little stairwell. It was teleported here by someone very important." But for some reason, when she said it out loud, she actually had to wonder, how _did_ it get here? Because there really_ was_ only way up to the attic, and it was the same way they were going out.

And for some reason, something deep down inside her, knew that for an instant, her words rang true.

"Hmmm," Gabby said in thought, looking back at the stairwell then to the Police Box.

"But why would they put something as important as a time machine in the attic of a library?" Gabby asked. Clara thought of a very good one.

"Well, the library is actually a very defendable position. Did you know that before this place became a library, this was actually a castle? Whoever put this time machine here obviously knew their history because they knew, that so long as they left it here, it wouldn't be found, and it would always be protected." Clara told her niece.

The little girl's mouth hung agape, "A castle?!"

"But you mustn't tell anyone." Clara told her critically. "Should anyone else find out about the library's history and the treasures it holds, then bad men would surely come here to loot it."

Gabby looked around the attic in profound wonder, "Are they any other magical things here?"

"There might be, but we'll have to find out some other time. It's almost your doctor's appointment." Clara said and while her niece looked put off she didn't complain. Gabby made for the stairs but Clara stroked the door to the Police Box.

"I said I'd visit you, didn't I? I hope you don't mind me lying to my niece about you. I actually don't know _what_ you are, but she's always had an imagination." Her words, which were more to comfort herself, seemed to also comfort the wood underneath her hand.

But Clara didn't dwell too long on it.

"Until next time, Police Box. My niece has a doctor's appointment she needs to make." But before she made it far, a small mournful sound emitted behind her.

Startled, Clara turned, only to see the Police Box. Looking around quickly she found nothing else that could have made that sound. Her face scrunched up in confusion, "What?"

"Aunt Clara!" Gabby called from the stairs.

Looking around once more, but finding nothing, Clara gave a penetrating stare to the majestic box. But if the Police Box had answers, it wasn't willing to disclose them.

At least, not yet.

-x-

The cab ride to Gabby's pediatrician was uneventful. Her niece however had made a list of all the types of candy she intended on getting. Gum, chocolate, fruit chews, licorice, the list went on and on. Honestly, Clara was wondering why they weren't going to her dentist instead.

"We're here!" Gabby proclaimed before the cab driver could say anything. The little girl bolted out of the cab and Clara quickly paid the driver. She followed her niece out onto the sidewalk, while Gabby had already run inside.

"Gabriel Kelly Rowland you stop running this instant!" Clara shouted to her niece. The little girl immediately obeyed, but the receptionist behind the desk looked up the moment Gabby had run in.

"Oh you must be Gabriella's aunt." The receptionist said, smiling. Clara smiled back, about to introduce herself when Gabby took the liberty.

"Hi Wanda! This is my aunt Clara she's here to make sure I get home safely and that I get candy afterwards." Her voice was giddy at the very thought of it and Wanda smiled at her excitement.

"Well then she's certainly the best kind of aunt, isn't she?" Wanda asked. Gabby nodded in agreement and Clara was flattered enough to laugh.

"You're too kind, I'm hardly the best." Wanda waved her off, producing a paper and clipboard from the recesses of her desk.

"I just need you to sign this paper. It just states that you're here to make sure Gabby doesn't make off with the candy dish." Clara looked down at her niece.

"It wasn't the candy _dish_, just all the candy in it!" Gabby protested once more. Her aunt just smiled at her and signed the paper. Wanda told them they could wait in the lobby until the doctor was ready.

They were the only ones in the entire lobby. Apparently not many needed to get a check up on a Saturday. It was a very comfortable setting, with plush leather chairs one wouldn't expect to see in a waiting room. There were magazines littering the coffee table and a specific nook designated for smaller children to amuse themselves with what toys they had. Gabriella made herself comfortable on the very plush lounge chairs, kicking her little legs back and forth, which surprised Clara because she expected her niece to go gallivanting towards the toys. Clara sat next to her, picking up an Urban Living magazine, scanning the texture and color of the layout.

"So what's your doctor like, munchkin?" Clara asked.

"He's really nice. Sometimes, if I'm extra good, he'll give me a paper animal." Her niece said. The elder girl looked up at her in confusion.

"A paper animal?" Clara asked. Gabby nodded, "Yeah, they're the ones that can be made by folding them over and over and they make a shape? Eventually? I think it's called ori-ga-mo."

Clara paused, "Origami?"

"That's it! He's made me a rose, a teddy bear, a snake, and a butterfly." The little girl listed off the different origami pieces on her fingers.

"So does that mean you'll be extra good today?" her aunt asked.

Another nod from the munchkin, "Yup! I want to see if he can make a sunflower."

Before Clara could comment however, an adjourning door had opened.

"All right, Mickey, you know what it means to be a team player now, don't you?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. Her heart stilled, her throat coiled. There was no possible, conceivable way.

"Yes doctor." A timid voice replied.

"And what does it mean, Mickey?" his voice said. His voice. _His _voice.

"It means that winning isn't everything. And that winning can only be accomplished if that win can be shared with everyone."

"Good boy. Now scat, before your mom starts to cry again."

It couldn't be. There-there was just no way. He couldn't be _here_, he wasn't _really_ a doctor. He traveled through space, he was a feared enemy of the Daleks, he could turn whole worlds into ruin, collapse universes, take down empires. He could heal a nation, breathe life into the dead and bring peace to warring planets. There's no avenue of possibility that could make him feasibly here.

But there he stood. A doctor's coat replacing the usual tweed that was on his person, but everything was the same. The ridiculous shoes, his penchant for bowties, his crooked smile, his straightened unruly hair.

"Why hello Gabriella, how've you been?" He asked congenially. His eyes, things that have plagued her in her dreams, were devoid of the usual intensity she's come to associate them with. Immediately he had focused on her niece, which delighted the little girl.

"I've been great. How've _you_ been doctor?" Gabby asked.

"I've been spectacular." This time, his eyes found hers, and she couldn't bring herself to look away.

"Oh, hello! You must be Clara, I'm-"

"The Doctor." The reverence in her tone threw him off.

"Why, yes. Actually I am. Doctor John Smith, wonderful to meet you." He held out a hand for her to shake but she paid it no mind.

"No. No no no, you don't understand, you're _the Doctor_." She stressed. Doctor Smith looked at her in confusion, looking from Gabby to Wanda, who were watching with rapt confusion, then back to Clara.

"Well, yes, I am. Resident physician of this charming facility." He smiled. But Clara was shaking in her seat.

"You're the man in my dreams." She stuttered out.

The doctor blinked, "Well I've never gotten that kind of response before."

-x-

Author's Note: Ya'll just hate me right now, don't you? Sorry to keep the suspense! But it's all for the greater good, I swear. Thank you for reading!


End file.
